Hunstanton Princess Theatre Sun Feb 7th

As mentioned in a previous blog, we've half - jokingly been referring to these dates as " The Organic Tour " because of the way the show changes and develops slightly as we work our way around the country. Well, today was SO organic that rather than being, say, a nicely rounded, shiny, crisp, green apple, it mutated into something that would have been more at home in The Little Shop Of Horrors. Picture this, if you will. After last night's shenanigans with Den's voice, we were approaching today's gig with a fair amount of trepidation anyway. The portents weren't good; Hunstanton is one of those quintessential little British seaside resort towns that revel in their candy-flossed, slot - machined, Kiss Me Quick - hatted traditional tackiness. In summer they teem and buzz as the flower of the country's youth from Dagenham to Doncaster flit from bar to bar, bringing light and life to this quiet stretch of Norfolk coast. In winter, though, it's a whole different world; the ( neon ) lights are on but there is, almost literally, no-one home. Isolated knots of people trudge disconsolately up and down the seafront, peering into closed shop windows and huddling against the icy rain blasting in from The Wash. A minibus full of senior citizens crawls by, their faces staring blankly out at the grey February afternoon. Like everyone else, including us, to be totally honest, they look like they'd rather be anywhere than here. We get to the gig and find that because of a long-running right of way dispute, we can't actually park the truck outside the loading bay, but have to unload in the car park and push everything in, then run it the whole length of the theatre before lifting it onto the stage. There's no wing space so the whole thing quickly becomes a clusterf**k of flight cases with everyone wanting to get at their gear and no-one being able to reach it. It's wet, cold, slow backbreaking work. Finally we get the logjam cleared and things start to come together, but when Den arrives it quickly becomes clear that an even bigger world of pain awaits. His singing voice has completely gone; he's even struggling to talk. We've really only got two options. We can cancel the show ( though as we'd had such a slog to set it up, this option would have seen someone, anyone, being hung from the lighting rig by the testicles ) or we can go ahead and try and put a show together. It's sold reasonably well and we absolutely hate cancelling shows and letting pople down, so we go for the second option. Despite all the jokes about playing " Jazz Odyssey " as the whole second half, it soon becomes clear that by relying totally on Jamie's lead vocal we're not only going to be short of songs, we're also putting an unwanted strain on HIS voice. The other problem is that the whole visual side of the show has been put together so that all the slides and the video inserts relate to specific songs and cues; if we radically change the running order of the show this goes out the window, and in many ways presents us with our biggest headache. It's now six thirty, though, and the doors open at seven. Things are getting sphincter-looseningly tight. However, cometh the hour, cometh the man, so they say, and all the years of experience that the band and crew have are drawn upon. There's only one way to do this....we have to start from scratch. Arthur and Clive hunker down over the computer to completely re-do the visuals while the band hash out a new set list and Rodders re-programmes some of the lighting to accomodate the changes. Remember, this is just half an hour before the doors open..... In the dressing room, guitarist Phil Evans realises that tonight's the night for him to step up to the plate and do the solo acoustic " Classical Gas " that he's been unhappy about performing, and so, with the audience starting to come in, the new set lists are hurriedly put out onstage and the crew get on our intercom system to quickly talk through the new show. There's no time to check all the revamped visuals....this is flying by the seat of your pants writ large. Only five minutes after the appointed time, we're ready to go, and Clive hits the first video cue. The band had been quiet and clearly nervous before they went on, but as soon as the lights go up and the first number kicks in, you can visibly see them relax; this is what they DO, and they do it better than anyone else. The big thing, in fact the only thing, really, is that everyone in the tour party is totally aware that the people sitting in front of us have paid good money to see a show, and we're going to make bloody sure that's what they're going to get. It might not be the show they were GOING to get, but they're not going to be disappointed. Jamie leads the line like the trouper he is, and Steve is even more animated than usual. Chris is playing a cracking gig and Phil ( visibly shaking ! ) reels off " Classical gas " to a great reception. Centre stage, Den's holding it all together as usual, and looking for all the world like this was a set planned months ago rather scribbled on the back of the proverbial fag packet ten minutes before the show. He even has a shot at " Blowing In The Wind " at the start of the second half, and the audience, aware of his throat problem, respond with real appreciation. When he steps up to the mic we're all on edge; will he get through it ? Then some wag's voice comes over the intercom " Don't worry lads....Dylan couldn't sing either " and we're all laughing and the fear's gone and Den's doing the business. The final number, " You'll Never Walk Alone " was always going to be too much for him to get through, but by now the crowd's on our side and up on their feet and they pretty much sing it for him before calling the band back onstage for an encore. Afterwards there's euphoria....we did it!! We put a completely new show together in thirty minutes and sent an audience home happy and shouting for more. I'm ridiculously proud of the band and the crew and go around hugging people and shaking hands. These are the times when you find out who you can rely on, and although we wouldn't want TOO many more like this, these are also the times that make you realise why you do this job in the first place, where you have to use all your skill and experience to make something work. And it DID work....friends in the audience tell me afterwards that it was even better than the last time we played up this way in Kings Lynn, and you realise that they have no idea what they MIGHT have seen; they can only go by what was presented to them tonight, and they loved what they saw and heard. From our point of view we know that tonight was a true one-off, an adrenaline - fuelled leap of faith, and that we have to come up with a serious rethink for the next few shows at least, so a game plan is hatched and will be put into place in Tunbridge Wells. But that's tomorrow, and tonight belongs to us. Even the laborious business of the load - out can't take the gloss off what we achieved here. We could have panicked and lost the show, but we hung on, thought it through and delivered as a real team, and I'm reminded of something an old tour manager
friend of mine used to say...." If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs, you've SERIOUSLY misinterpreted the situation ....."!